Does satire break the eighth Command?/ Should all sarcasm just be banned?/ I think not, 'cause when Brother Paul/ Suggested not just part, but all/ Should be removed, thus ceased division/ O'er Christians needing circumcision.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Mice scurry, you know…

… so today we’re going to scurry around my cranial attic and see what we can find amongst the boxes and dust bunnies.

*************************************I want you to remember: Ablaze! – It’s not a program, it’s a movement.Multi-Site! – It’s not a mission, it’s a vehicle.LCMS! – It’s not a synod, it’s a (to quote Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes) “It’s a madhouse!!!!!!!!”

**************************************Ooooo! Clever, clever Biz Marks crew! They’re using the ol’ “Create a need, then fill it” business axiomatic torpedoes now. The more Multi-Site Ministries they can create, the more they’ll say we need lay-ministry “deacons” to lead them!

**************************************Here’s a quick inspiration from Consensus:

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*****************************************And finally, we go Back to the Future……

A riot broke out at the 2007 LCMS Convention yesterday when a significant, but minority contingency of delegates, calling themselves “Confessionals,” arose as one and began whipping out cinctures (which had been hidden in their pockets), overturning tables, and shouting, “Get out of my grandfather’s church!” while lashing those around them. When police arrived at the scene, a man, who claimed to be the synodical president, had his hands firmly clamped over his fanny and was trying to rally his loyal district presidents around him, crying, “Protect my rear! Protect your rears!” Ack! Advance to the rear!”

When it was all sorted out, what Biblical scholars would call a “David and Goliath event” had taken place. As they were ushered off the premises, the shocked majority was heard mumbling “I knew we should have tried to pass that by-law the last time about disallowing vestments at convention activities.” With a firm grasp on the YFL sponsor’s ear, one Confessional was seen wrestling the writhing, aging baby-boomer out the door. Planting one good, swift, parting kick on the sponsor’s posterior, the Confessional bid him farewell. “And I’ve got 12 more choruses of THAT for you if you ever soil the minds of our youth with that tripe again!”

*******************************************Oh, come on! It’s my attic and I can dream here if I want.